Here's the story: I need to ejaculate one more time before she comes over. I needed to exercise and take a shower. I went to the gym, I (drove there in my Kia) drove the four blocks not because I'm lazy but because I wanted to save time. I took the personal DVD player, which I had been watching all day; Netflix sent me the first disc of the first season of the Family Guy and though I am an amateur stand-up comedian, I did not laugh very much. A bag of carrots and one of those all-fruit ant-oxidant drinks and a penchant for binging and the non clanapin left me bloated and unhappy. And M+Ms and zucchini bread my girlfriend made and a boiled egg and an egg-salad sandwich. At the gym I watched 20 minutes of the first episode of the 4th disc of the third season of Alias, and then the battery cut out, so I finished off 200 calories burned which is the number of pounds I weigh and then I left.

The story began to write itself in my head at the second right turn on the way home. We have those roundabout things in my neighborhood, and when you go left you're supposed to go around them to the right. But some asshole in a van, which is a large vehicle, was trying to cut off the roundabout when I approached. So I stopped, blocking him, because I wanted him to feel like a shitty brown asshole and back up and go right to make his left. But he waived me on (in italics:) like he was doing me a favor (end italics). Then at the light I made a left. It's four blocks to the gym from my house but driving back it's seven because it's a right turn into the gym off a busy street but going home the left is too difficult so I take backstreets.

The story has no plot, no conflict, which is why you should focus on the arty facts. I went into the grocery store parking lot to drop off the Family Guy from netflix in the mailbox. I got a pretty good turnover going with them, having watched lots and lots of TV shows lately: Deadwood, Dead Like Me, Millennium, The Family Guy, The Kids in the Hall, Firefly. As I drove towards the mailbox, someone tried to turn left from one line of parking to mine, cutting me off, so that I had to stop. People don't know how to turn left, it seems. He had a mustache too: I have never trusted men who wore mustaches only.

I looked for and found a parking spot close to the mailbox, but: there was a stack of carts in the spot that I wanted, so I had to take the one to the left. I know the employees didn't park the carts there; I knew that one shitty brown asshole had left a cart there rather than walk the fifty feet back to the store (we were pretty close, actually) and then another asshole had decided to take advantage of the first asshole and then another and then a fourth.

I hope they are all very healthy people, in the prime of their lives. I would hate them just as much if they had emphysema. My girlfriend is a pharmacist, I'm going to ask her what is given to people with emphysema. Then if next time someone leaves a cart like that I'm going to imagine a very healthy person popping those pills to make it look like he has emphysema so he can be excused for being such a lazy motherfucker. And if it turns out he does have emphysema, I am going to think: just because you have emphysema doesn't mean your not a lazy motherfucker anyway.

This is the part where I wondered if maybe I should write down this story. I had to take advantage of the carts in the spot by not parking fully in my spot because the person who had parked in the next spot over didn't do a good job. They where on the line. And that's a bigger pet peeve of mine than lazy motherfuckers who can't take their carts back. And you could see how the front wheels where turned way over to the right, so it wasn't the case that they had to park like an asshole just because someone else next to them had parked like an asshole. They just whipped in and didn't care how they parked.

The mailbox, then, was 3 more spaces away, and so counting the space with the asshole van, there where 3 vehicles in 4 spaces that where all pine green in color. And that's when I decided I should for certain write all of this down. I dropped off the Netflix envelope, got in my car... on the way out, a girl who works with my girlfriend at the pharmacy was in the car in front of me, and she waved. We where right next to the movie theater I had invited her and a bunch of other people to go to a see a movie tonight. But I had forgotten that she couldn't go because she and her boyfriend and his roommate where all going to see Nine Inch Nails tonight.

I don't like Nine Inch Nails.

A third asshole in a van had his signal on to turn right out of the parking lot onto the road, and though there where lots of people turning left off of the road into the road, he waited and waited and waited. There was no reason for him to wait. There was no traffic for him to wait for. I guess he just didn't know how to turn very well and was afraid he'd hit the cars in the other lane. I hate that man, now, for being a bad driver.

Finally I got out of the parking lot, and drove the three blocks home. On the way, I saw a man walking, and this was the part that made me think this story should be about artsy fags. The man was carrying a bright pink bowling ball. He was about 10 blocks away from the bowling alley. The same alley where I bowl on Mondays. The same alley where the people I play kickball with on Wednesdays where going to start bowling on Thursdays. Today's Friday. I had invited them all to go to the movie too.

I got home, parked my car, walked in here, and starting writing all of this. The light that I turned on this morning is still on. Now I have to masturbate, take a shower, shave, cook something, eat it, brush my teeth, watch the rest of that Alias episode, and when my girlfriend gets here, show her this story, fuck her really really good, and then go see that movie.

Did you pay attention to the artifacts? The carrots, the not-a-clanapine, The gym, the TV show DVDs, the DVD player, the roundabout, the mailbox, the parking spot, the shopping carts, the pine green cars, the bowling ball. All of it overlaid by people who don't know how to make their cars change direction without fucking it all up for the rest of us, the people who don't even know how to stop their cars without fucking it all up for the rest of us.

Newton's something law of thermodynamics says that an object in motion tends to stay in motion unless acted upon by an outside force. He also says that for every action there is an opposite and equal reaction. Put those together, and it looks like the opposite reaction of things changing motion is to fuck things up for the rest of us. If you believe in cause and effect. Luckily I don't.